


The Sun of Lordran

by SunofLordran



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Main character is rude, Praise the Sun!, Slow Burn, Solaire is adorable though, Sorry if something sounds weird, Translating this monster from spanish is not easy :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunofLordran/pseuds/SunofLordran
Summary: Follow the journey of an undead warrior in her pilgrimage through Lordran to overcome death, decay and pain, finding disturbingly crazy people, violent murderers and companions illuminating even the darkest places with their sun-touched souls.





	1. The fate of the Undead

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [El Sol de Lordran](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182534) by [SunofLordran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunofLordran/pseuds/SunofLordran). 



> I originally wrote this in spanish and tried translating it a few years ago but ended up getting tired of it cause english is kinda hard if you are a spaniard writer. I couldn't even imagine how much it changes from spanish to english, and even now I'm having trouble doing it. I hope it's understandable. I deeply apologize if anything sounds weird or if I mess up, it's the first time I write in english and I greatly appreciate feedback/corrections from native english readers. I hope you enjoy!

A dense stench of death and decay crept down the narrow corridor, entering each one of the long-forgotten cells and joining the cold air that already filled the lungs of the unfortunate Undead who ended up locked inside the prison and freezing their crumbling minds like a dying breath.

Nothing alive remained in that disregarded place.

Cursed prisoners walked limping and moaning both inside and outside the old cells where they were locked and abandoned to time and solitude, and jailers became abominations amongst the prisoners they once subjected. All the unfortunate Hollows swarming the Undead Asylum ended up being prisoners of their own minds and a danger to anyone, even themselves. They little cared if they were left to rot at the Asylum or anywhere else, let alone who their jailer was.

Barely looking up from the puddled floor of her cell, Blade observed the lost and condemned souls. 

Even though she was locked up and rejected because of the curse, just like them, she couldn’t help the disdain she felt for the fleshless red-eyed Hollows roaming beyond the bars of her cell. She was not like them, she thought, gritting her teeth. Although her own skin was sunken to the bone and dried like a mummy's, she didn’t consider herself their equal. She was still aware of the world around her, clinging to every tiny bit of sanity remaining in her mind and refusing to let it go, or so she thought.

Blade laughed inwardly at the persistent need to stubbornly remind herself that she was not the same as the Hollows. 

She had forgotten her name, she didn’t know who she was and how she ended up like that. Sometimes she saw painful flashes in her dreams, she witnessed faces and events that escaped her memory. All she had left was a word, Blade, a word she used as a name, a word she wouldn’t forget as long as she had hands to wield a weapon but that wasn’t nearly enough to feel human and she knew it. 

The troubled and cursed warrior sat in a corner without moving a muscle for a long time, ignoring the scrawny rats that roamed the cell and wondering desperately what sin she had committed to carry such a burden. 

The curse had broken her life and ruined her sanity day by day and all she could do was clench her fists in anger and pretend she still had a chance to fight and overcome it. That was the natural reaction of a fighter: swallow pain and ignore every loss to face an enemy, even if that enemy is inside of you and every loss means giving up a piece of yourself, but Blade wasn’t sure for how long she could take that inner demon devouring her mind away without going completely crazy. 

What was the purpose of her existence now? Waiting, rotting and dying in solitude while telling herself she wasn’t done for like everyone else? 

Hatred towards everything and everyone possessed her, even though hate didn’t make any sense at all. She couldn’t hate with real passion anyway. 

Perhaps she was already losing her humanity and would end up banging her head against a wall, grunting like the disgusting Hollows that cluttered the halls of the Asylum.

She let out a reluctant and muffled croak when she heard a brief dragging noise above her head but didn’t have time to look up before the shell of a Hollow fell right from the roof to her feet. Blade looked up then, after making sure the corpse was just that, a corpse, unable to move. As regrettable as her condition was, her reflexes were still there, buried under painful neglect. 

A man in heavy armor silently studied her, peering through a hole in the ceiling. He looked like a western knight, someone who was aware of his actions and yet carried the Dark Sign branded in his chest, beneath layers of armor. She could somehow feel it. 

Blade found enough strength to get up and speak through dry lips, sincerely baffled by the presence of the man perched on the roof.

“Hey, you… Who are you? What are you doing?”, she asked in a raspy voice. 

Ignoring her, the knight stood up and disappeared from her sight without a single word. 

Shrugging, Blade turned her attention to the corpse on the ground and noticed with a sudden pang of shock that there was a key and an ugly broken sword beneath it. She smiled tightly as she took both items without a second thought. 

“Well, well…”

It was odd to be helped even in such a strange way after how badly she had been treated ever since she was branded with the Dark Sign, but her pragmatic nature urged her to take advantage of the situation without questioning the unexpected appearance of the mysterious knight. She had a chance to escape now, and that was the important part. 

Even though she could never return to her native eastern lands, even if she had no hope and would dubiously find any good in any land, Blade still wanted with all her might to get out of the stinking abandoned sewer the Asylum was.

She opened the cell gate and narrowed her eyes, looking carefully at the Hollows as she passed on through the corridor. They didn’t pay her the slightest attention, but what could easily see her was the immense demon who served as guardian in the adjoining room, pacing from side to side like a caged dog. Blade decided to leave the hallway as soon as possible without any desire to try her good luck or the rusty bars separating her from the gigantic beast. 

She made her way through the flooded corridors and started climbing up a rusty ladder with barely any strength, numb and cold. But stopping was no longer an option, she could almost smell the outside air… 

Dropping to the ground upstairs, she struggled to breathe even if breathing didn’t give her more than an empty and unnecessary pleasure. It wasn’t nearly the same as breathing being alive, but it made her feel a little bit better. Didn’t she deserve the right to pretend she could enjoy the small pleasures of living humans?

Shaking her head, she walked unhurriedly through the huge courtyard over patched grass and recent snow, searching around and waiting for some danger to come at her, but what called her attention was far from dangerous. 

At the center of the courtyard was an extinguished fire, little more than the skeleton of an ancient sword, ashes and piled up bones, but for her it was like a beacon in the dark. She felt a tingling feeling inside her urging to approach it, and step by step she obeyed that impulse. She knew what she should do and her hand did not shake as she approached the fire. Blade didn’t even grimace when the Dark Sign reacted and burned her cadaverous skin, answering to her cursed nature as the bonfire lit with a timid crackle and reminding her of the presence of the Flame. 

Blade sat for a moment to strengthen the link and walked away with the feeling of having left behind a small thread that linked her to that place. If her body died, that bonfire would send the imperious order to rise again in an infinite circle, the undeath.

With a sigh of resignation, Blade opened the enormous bronze carved gates closing the courtyard, forcing her limp body to push the heavy thing and entering another larger courtyard leading to the entrance. She was so close… 

A huge demon fell from the sky right in front of her, causing the ground and columns to tremble under its weight. Blade regained her balance with a lump in her throat and prepared to run, recognizing this twisted monster roaming free as a similar one to the demon trapped near her cell. It could easily reduce her to a bloody pulp with its enormous hammer, and that was something she didn’t particularly want to go through. 

“What are you doing here? Damn it!”, she grimly cursed.

She wasn’t prepared to confront such a creature with only a broken sword at her disposal, so she followed her inherent instinct and ran like a crazy rabbit to take refuge among the columns and pots flanking the courtyard. 

The demon roared and used the hammer to try to stop her, but Blade threw herself headlong into a side aisle that was her timely salvation just as it struck behind her. It could not follow her in there, which fueled its anger and she could still hear it growling enraged while she crawled into the next hall.

She had no choice but to take an absurd detour to find a way to neutralize the demon if she wanted to scape without being crushed like a fly. Then she would reduce the bastard to ashes… 

She stopped in her tracks.

There was a hostile Hollow at the end of the narrow roofless corridor she was about to walk in. 

Blade saw the Hollow’s bow just in time and hurried to cover herself in a lateral cell. 

At least fortune keeps smiling at me, she thought, eyeing one of the many corpses lying on the ground in her hiding place. It must have belonged to a prison guard who ended up… well, quite dead. But she didn’t care about who it was before, especially since the corpse had a decent sword and shield beside it.

Wielding a proper sword, instinctive memory of combative training and discipline came rushing back to her rushing in her brittle mind like a furious river. With a weapon in her hands she knew she could make her way through anything, including the ugly stony skinned demon with disproportionate buttocks and wings too small to fly high enough to avoid direct combat.

It was so easy to break through the Hollows now. 

Blade quickly remembered how to properly coordinate her numb reflexes, raise the shield and move the sword, enjoying the murderous yearning to defeat more enemies. When they got to hurt her, she used the pain and attacked them back with greater fierceness. Everything was easier with a weapon in her hands, she could face fear and uncertainty, thinking was unnecessary, just act, just… 

Blade paused when she slowly began to climb some thin stairs leading out to the upper area of the courtyard, approaching the nearest wall and containing the excitement of combat. What was that sound, as if someone was dragging something heavy, just above?

She didn’t have time to think before a euphoric growl echoed through the walls and the Hollow waiting upstairs sent her a welcoming gift: a huge stone ball rolling down directly towards her. The massive sphere went down so fast she couldn’t avoid it any other way than throwing herself to the nearby stairs descending to the bonfire. However, the ball hit her hard on the flank, making her lose stability and probably all dignity when she fell rolling down the stairs.

A normal human would have suffered several broken ribs, a twisted ankle or a sore shoulder by the concussion, but Blade could thank undeath for making it terribly derisory. On the other hand, destroying the damn Hollow seemed extremely urgent.

Grimacing, Blade leaned on her hands, took the sword and charged upstairs howling. It was almost pleasant to see how the Hollow gaped terrified before she brutally cut off its head. She restrained the urge to spit on the decapitated corpse. Pain would accompany her for hours because of that wretched idiot… 

Again, she had to turn her attention back when she heard something from behind, surprised to find a huge hole the ball had created hitting the wall, revealing an improvised entrance to the room behind it. That wouldn’t have mattered in the least if she hadn’t been able to hear a panting breath and several moans of pain coming from inside. 

Blade approached the hole with her guard up and peeked very slowly inside, shaking and ready to fight. She almost spat a condemnable blasphemy when she saw that there was a familiar man flat on his back inside the room. 

She hurried over the rubble and knelt near to the knight who had earlier thrown her the corpse with the key, the same who had given her an empty ray of hope and freedom that she still didn’t know how to use. The man was seriously wounded, she could hear his labored breathing from behind the metal helmet while he lay against the wall, too weak to get up. 

Blade hesitated. 

She could feel death hovering over him like so many times it had hovered over her, and it was both something familiar and terrible. However, the knight still seemed to cling himself to life, because he turned his head to her and spoke from inside his helmet with a canned and tired voice. 

“Oh, you… You're no Hollow, eh?”

Despite the evident weakness wearing him down his voice was firm, and Blade found herself remembering what it was like to feel empathy, to have her cursed heart shrinking at the sight of a warrior slowly fading away and stoically fighting death. 

“No, I’m not”, she murmured, grimacing with her lifeless dry face.

“Thank goodness…”, said the knight, seeming to find relief in it. “I'm done for, I'm afraid… I hope that taking you out of the cell might at least mend my failure in a way. I’ll die soon, then lose my sanity.” And we both know what that means, she thought, remembering the unhappy wretches crowding the Asylum. “I wish to ask something of you”

“You helped me out of the cell, knight, so I'll settle my debt. Although you could have thrown me a proper functional sword… If you want to get out of here, I'll do everything…”

The knight abruptly cut her off.

“No, listen, I beg of you. You and I, we're both Undead” Blade grimly nodded. His accent seemed from Astora, and even though she couldn’t understand what moved the knights from other kingdoms to be so blind to little else than their ridiculous codes, that man had helped her, and the least he deserved was for her to listen to him in his final moments. “Regrettably, I have ... failed in my mission, but perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family: Thou who art Undead, art chosen… In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know.” 

He watched her closely from inside the helmet hiding his face, but Blade didn’t know what the hell was she supposed to answer to that. The land of the Ancient Lords? 

“You’re talking about Lordran”, she stated, dryly, remembering the name through foggy memories. 

“That's right”, he confirmed with a tired sigh. “When you find yourself without a purpose in your cursed existence, without any guidance, thinking that maybe you’re the Chosen Undead might give you a new goal, as it gave it to me.” 

Sadly, she couldn’t deny that she had no goals, she had no future, and that irritated her. Blade bit her parched lips in agitation. 

“I'm not a chosen one. Everyone thinks they're the chosen one, but the only truth is they’re just desperate people chosen to carry the damn curse, nothing more", she growled, looking away. 

How could he be so foolish? Starting that pilgrimage was absurd, no one had ever returned, and if someone had found any solution to the undeath, well… it was quite useless, anyway. They remained still the same. 

The knight calmly spoke, noticing the desperation and refusal of the Undead woman without any intention of forcing her to believe in his words. 

“Anyway, now you know… and I can die with hope in my heart.” He seemed to be nearing the end, but still looked confident, thinking that he was spending his last moments doing the right thing. He obviously saw the skepticism in Blade's empty eyes but didn’t have any more time to regret and dwell on his situation, so he let out a weak laugh and reached for something in his pocket. “One more thing… here, take this, Estus, an Undead favorite, and the key… you can’t leave without it.”

Blade took both objects with apprehension, being way too valuable things to freely deliver to a stranger. 

Why did the knight trust the honor of his memory to a stranger? He was brave, surely, and didn’t deserve to die and roam the halls with the Hollows… Was it just desperation? Why did he release her in the first place, when he was still not deadly injured and about to die and lose his mind? She was so confused and lost she didn’t even knew what to think, what to do, and felt hopelessly trapped even with her new freedom. 

She took the knight's gloved hand and looked at him with an unexpected determination. Perhaps it was reminiscent of her humanity, a brief symptom that she wasn’t so painfully empty. 

“I can open the way to get you out, help you leave this place before the end," she offered. A dignified death. A gift. 

Again, the knight weakly laughed.

“You have an honorable heart, but you must leave as soon as possible. I don’t want to hurt you. You'll do much more for me if you survive and continue what I couldn’t finish.”

Blade frowned, ignoring the allusion to her honorable heart. 

“At least tell me your name.” She would remember it, since he would soon forget it. Kindness was an expensive gift in those days, and he had offered it freely to her.

“Oscar of Astora, but soon I’ll be no one. Goodbye, fellow warrior.”

She knew she should leave but didn’t want to. 

Feeling an unknown weight growing inside her chest, she got up and left him alone, ignoring that foreign sensation. Blade could hear the knight expiring behind her in solitude and felt the souls he had accumulated flowing towards her, but she didn’t turn around.

What kind of warrior left another to die alone? Is that how she payed her debt? 

With an increasingly taciturn humor, Blade opened the upper gate and furiously cleared her way through the Hollows. She really hated them. Those creatures reminded her every waking moment what her own future might be, just like Oscar’s. Maybe it was just the fate of each Undead, to be alone and lose every drop of hope as if someone had pierced and break them inside.

She looked down from a ledge into the courtyard occupied by the demon, thinking it made sense for it to be the responsible for Oscar’s defeat, the one making him fall from the roof into that room where he ended up dying, just before she found it. She held the dark eyed creature’s gaze and her anger flared up. 

Blade accepted loneliness, death and even hatred, she made them her own and used them, but she wouldn’t accept the injustice of the imprisonment or any kind of defeat.

She howled and jumped down the demon's head, burying the old sword in hard inhuman flesh and enjoying hearing every angry growl the beast uttered in sheer pain. The warrior moved quickly, launching herself to the ground, dull rage guiding her hand and body as she rolled and slashed the creature. The revenge and the pleasure she found in killing wasn’t nearly enough, but even with her body wounded and terribly tired, Blade enjoyed it. 

Thanks to the Estus flask she could now drink and heal, letting an invigorating heat inside remind her what it was to feel relief. She thanked Oscar, his sacrifice, and left the Asylum making a decision. If only despair awaited the cursed Undead, she would fight against her very cursed existence like Oscar and so many others did, she would fight to the end. Nothing else remained for her.

She allowed herself to look around as she stepped through the carved bronze gates that had separated her from her freedom all this time.

High mountains surrounded the Asylum with their bare slopes and snow-capped peaks, and the old building itself stood scraping the misty clouds. While walking towards the edge of the path, Blade observed the ravines and precipices, the emptiness. The air was limpid, cold as ice, almost like a grave. That place was a grave. That place was just like the Undead, cold, empty and lonely. And she wasn’t going to give in to that place along with the rest.

Giant black wings struck the air in front of her as she reached the nest perched on the edge of the cliff. The black-eyed crow looked at her as Velka herself, goddess of sin and forgiveness, measuring her, and she didn’t struggle when the immense creature grabbed her in its claws and cackled with pride.

So, it was true. As much as she wanted to deny it there was the first symbol of the accursed pilgrimage, flapping its wings.

The giant bird took her far from the Asylum, away from the cold, death and loneliness, bringing her closer to the heavens. She was finally going to abandon the lands of men in a stupid attempt to defy the shame of rotting alone, and she swore to the memory of Oscar of Astora she would do it. Even if it was stupid and useless she would never cease in her new mission. 

Blade was going to die fighting, one way or another.


	2. Nonsensical  goals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if there are any mistakes in this translation I would like to know, thank you very much for reading!

Ever since she was lifted to the heavens, all she could see were the endless grey clouds and their golden rims hiding a sun too weak to fully lighten the world. Sometimes she wasn’t even able to open her eyes, flying at full speed between the crow’s enormous claws and furrowing the skies with the dark elegance of a black arrow.

They had left behind the cold air of the mountains hours ago; now it was strangely tempered, and for some reason that made her feel slightly better, less burdened by the ever-present death looming over her heart. 

Her head was an unattended nonsense drowned by confusion, plaguing her with a dry reminiscence of feelings she didn’t even know how to understand. Perhaps, in another time the woman she had once been would have been able to recognize her restlessness, loneliness or pain, but each day was increasingly difficult to distinguish even the smallest of things.

She tried by all possible means focusing on abandoning the futility of a rampant mind, which wouldn’t be of any help, but it proved to be nearly impossible until the raven decided to fly over lowlands at long last, finally pulling her out of her thoughts. 

Blade struggled to keep her eyes open against the ragging wind hitting her face, distinguishing ancient constructions in the distance. Tall walls rising, dark and abandoned, as a reminder of the glory of the past. Enormous trees climbing the steep slopes topped by some old forgotten tower. Barbicans and thick pillars devoured by neglect. That place had a disproportionate scale, and Blade had difficulties imagining which architects might have designed and built such a gigantic kingdom as she gawked in awe.

Suddenly, the crow bent and plummeted as they flew over a gigantic tree near the highest walls and Blade screamed to the top of her lungs, feeling just as if she were free-falling until the bird unfolded its wings in a circle to slow down. Few meters separated her from the ground, but her eyes were too watery for her to see anything and her heart was beating too wildly to hear a thing. 

The crow released her without landing and Blade shouted again when her only subjection disappeared, living a moment of sheer panic until she touched the ground. Her heart was beating way too fast and her legs were shacking out of control even if she suffered no damage during the fall. After all, it didn’t make sense for the bloody bird to just kill her, throwing her like a useless sack after carefully keeping her alive for hours, but she couldn’t help panicking after flying like a rabbit between an eagle’s claws. 

She might as well stop losing her dignity, screaming like a frightened baby, she thought, straightening up as much as she could and making sure that her sword was well sheathed, systematically adjusting the shield strap on her back and keeping her breathing under control. 

Huffing, she looked up, searching for the crow. She couldn’t see it among the gigantic branches of the tree, but she did observe with innocent fascination how the rays of a distant and cloudy sun filtered through the green leaves of the centenary tree rising hundreds of meters from the ground, covering the entire place like an old living roof. Maybe the crow had left looking for more miserable Undead to carry around. Either way, she wasn’t going to waste any more time with it. 

Blade scowled at the strange place, cautious.

Every structure seemed to gather around an old bonfire sitting in the bones of some forgotten ruins patched by green moss and wild vines, rising in a circle. The floor, where only a few stairs survived, was now covered by a thin layer of grass, and beyond, a ravine cut the ground behind ancient stone arches leading to a huge empty fall. It was a quiet place, keeping an ancient tranquility impossible to ignore, and yet somehow resembled the antechamber of danger itself. Tranquility was always ephemeral.

“So, this is Lordran.” She murmured to herself, vaguely impressed. It was certainly beautiful and old, but she expected… more.

She winced at the sound of a voice behind her.

“Welcome to the Firelink Shrine,” someone said. Blade quickly turned to face the stranger, muscles tense and ready. How had she overlooked the man sitting indolently two meters away from where she had landed? “A new arrival. Well, well, how interesting. Let me guess... Fate of the Undead and all that nonsense, right?”

Blade shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable by the stranger's demeanor. He didn't look like much, an average soldier with an old chain mail, a sword and an undoubtedly pitiful mood. His hair was short, dark, with features of the western lands but not a single scar showing he was a battle-hardened warrior. 

Blade lifted her chin with pride.

“What do you even know?” she snapped, stiffening up.

“Well, you're not the first…” He examined her from head to toe and raised an eyebrow at her unpleasant Hollowed appearance, but Blade nonchalantly ignored it even if it stung. “There's no salvation here, so you might as well go back and rot in that stinking Asylum.”

“Since I'm going to rot anyway, I'll do it wherever I want to,” she curtly replied, feeling like breaking the man’s indolent smile with a shield blow at that moment.

The man laughed, and the urge grew even stronger, but Blade just gritted her teeth in a distasteful grimace and kept her hands clenched into fists. 

“Perhaps you didn't notice the stupid prophecy's only purpose is to attract fools to its end," the man apathetically said.

Blade spat at his feet, blaspheming harshly and making the man bounce on the spot. Well, she wasn’t going to break his face just yet, but if she held her displeasure any longer she feared she could rot right on the spot from pure anger and disdain. 

“Damn you all, useless men sitting on your asses and whining instead of moving and fighting!” she growled, letting her anger and weariness get the best of her. She didn't notice how acid her tone had been until she saw the man's horrified look. Blade composed herself, clearing her throat and feeling much better after throwing that out. “I don’t have any patience left, so, if you intend on keep nagging and insulting me I offer you a duel to settle this.”

He was clearly disconcerted by her reaction, turning deadly serious. Nothing more than a bitter coward, as Blade suspected, not even worthy of a fight. 

“That's not… it won't be necessary,” he said, clearly scared. “I meant no offense.” 

“All right. Then keep your opinions to yourself.” 

Even if Blade disliked the man, she didn't really want to fight the first human being she encountered during her pilgrimage. She wasn't even sure what she was doing, it was all because of a promise made to a dead man… 

“Well...” The man went on, clicking his tongue. “Since you'll start the pilgrimage anyway, at least let me help you, so I can prove I meant no disrespect. This place changes you… You'll see it for yourself.”

Blade arched an eyebrow, unwilling to believe any of his excuses and tired of his insistent verbiage. 

“I'm listening but hurry up. The sooner I head out looking for the bell, the better.” 

“Alright then. There are two Bells of Awakening, actually. One's up above, in the Undead Parish, and the other is far, far below, in the ruins at the base of Blighttown,” he explained, returning to his previous apathy. “Ring them both and, well… something happens. So, off you go, it is why you came, isn't it warrior?” the man shakily said. He let out a halfhearted laugh and lost all attention, looking back to the floor with absolute interest.

Blade wondered if all those arriving to Lordran had really gone mad or it was just the crestfallen soldier, crushed by the weight of the pilgrimage and mislead by hope. For her it was not a long-planned trip with big expectations, she felt no real passion nor any hope whatsoever. So, two bells? Well, there was no difference between one and two bells, she thought as she walked past a pit with a corpse lying on the old rock. There might as well be four or six bells, she just wanted to fight and die in battle instead of cradled away in fear, and the pilgrimage was just a means to an end. 

Blade hushed those inner thoughts spurred by the crestfallen soldier and obtained her first prize right by the pit, something that inspired her curiosity and allowed her to fully focus on the present. 

Blade slightly smiled when she took the little beings from the remains of the corpse, two small humanities, like pixies of black smoke and bright eyes floating aimlessly barely the size of a hand. She had never seen one of those before but heard about how valuable they were, so she took them and kept them, listening to how they buzzed happily when they met her dry skin. She didn’t know how to use such creatures but took them anyway.

Now, she had to continue. 

*  *  *

It wouldn’t be that hard to face a lonely trip, the warrior thought while climbing the stairs nestled in one side of the ravines, towards the aqueduct crossing the area, which seemed the best way to move forward. 

She took a quick look around from the top side of the Shrine and decided it wasn’t a very good idea to get into the western cemetery; there seemed to be bones stirring on the ground, and the path leading downstairs dragged a cold and repelling stench, while the upper area led to a non-functional elevator. To make things worse, there was a blond grumpy-faced cleric in bulging armor that sent her away like she was some mangy dog nagging around, so Blade decided to get away before she ended up buying her sword in someone else’s guts in that bloody Shrine.

It was obvious that people were not especially receptive around the place, so she focused in looking for a path to travel as far away as possible, grumbling and cursing between gritted teeth. 

An easy, pleasant trip no doubt. 

*  *  *

Blade wasn’t really surprised when she found several Hollows ahead. No wonder, Lordran had been the area from which the curse expanded. Trouble was, those Hollows wore armor and looked far more vicious than any other she had encountered before. 

She drew her sword and fought the first one without difficulty, still feeling confident and pretending it wasn’t so different from any other Hollows she encountered before, at least until the other raging creatures decided to show her its hospitality and correct her. 

Someone fell on top of her, and she felt something cold piercing through her shoulder and rib cage while the attacker fell to the side, growling. Blade gasped, feeling an unbearable deep pain and tried to regain stability to no avail. It had pierced the lung, the heart… Everything became misty and dark, everything stopped making sense around her, the world was blurring…

The warrior opened her eyes, cold and dead. Dead again. Undead.

She was sitting by the Shrine bonfire. 

That damn Hollow caught her completely off guard, leaving her numb and dizzy after dying and rising again, paralyzed by an excruciating pain. So, enraged and still feeling that disgusting pain throughout her entire body, she got up and made her way to the hill without even looking at the crestfallen soldier. She was so angry that the slightest mocking glance headed her way could end up in havoc for the unfortunate idiot brave enough to mess with the raging hurricane she had become at the moment. It was a good thing both the soldier and the cleric ignored her as she left the Shrine. 

While furiously trying to kill the Hollows, Blade found out they were extremely dangerous even devoid of any humanity or conscience to coordinate an attack, like broken puppets filled with knives guided by a mental puppeteer thrashing them around in hopes of stabbing someone. And where the hell had they found firebombs and throwing knives?

It was utterly ridiculous and dangerous, indeed, but she wasn’t going to lose this time. Blade fought tooth and nail every single one of them in a deathly dance beating with the tempo her thundering heart and clashing weapons provided, wildly grunting when the last one hit lifeless the ground. 

Victorious and wounded, she managed to get to the entrance of the aqueduct with filthy stagnant water soaking her boots and blood dripping from her wounds, stepping over the corpses of her enemies. It felt so ridiculously good she almost wanted to laugh and growl and look for more like a wild animal, knowing all-to-well the increasing blood thirst grumbling deep in her soul. It was something she had probably doing and feeling her entire life, even if she couldn’t remember anymore, and there was no shame in burying herself in that brutal song until she couldn’t move and fight anymore.

Peering into the darkness, she wondered if there was any place free of hilariously murderous creatures outside the Shrine and got her answer as soon as she reached the vast town beyond the passage. In that desecrated town the Undead crowded every single street, every corner, and they weren’t nearly as stupid and mechanical as she wished them to be. They ambushed her, getting out from a long inactivity ready to kill anything, jumping from corners, furious and chaotic.

It was sad to see that burg, those stone buildings where people would have lived now swarming with murderous shells of human beings. She could still see furniture and household utensils of the old tenants, and sometimes the dry and slobbering tenants themselves, ready to stick anything pointy to anyone passing by. In fact, Blade found one who seemed to think it was perfectly well hidden behind shelves, with an ax ready in its hands, waiting in its ridiculous hiding place.

Sighing and stretching her muscles after the latest fights, Blade sat down a few meters away and picked up several pebbles. She started throwing them to the Hollow’s head, and the creature, which couldn’t see her because of the same shelves it used to hide itself, only issued a muffled grunt. Blade kept throwing the pebbles absentmindedly, especially enjoying hitting it in the eyes.

“You're pretty stupid, you know,” she casually said. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you there?”

The Hollow immediately growled and reacted at the sound of her voice, charging against the shelves and launching at Blade with unexpected speed. She barely had any time to stand up, rise the shield and avoid ending up with her head open by an ax by the same Hollow she had taken for a fool.

Even if she defeated it, she took one more cut in the arm and several blows to the face as a gift for her arrogance. She grumbled, annoyed, and went back to a wide courtyard cursing and making sure there were no more enemies around. Blade felt a bonfire nearby and went straight on to rest while Estus healed her wounds.

Once she made sure it was a safe area, she slept without qualms, hoping to rest for a few hours. It looked like Hollows were triggered by movement and voice, clearly avoiding bonfires, so she allowed herself to lower her guard down and heal her wounds.

As always, she only dreamed about darkness, about empty memories full of pain and horror, falling into a deep pit all too familiar. She hated sleeping, but it was a necessity that not even Undeath took away from her. She preferred hours and hours of fighting and forgetting everything through blood and pain, because thinking and dreaming sometimes was almost unbearable. 

*  *  *

Blade decided she hated Lordran whit all that was left of her soul.

Going up a seemingly empty narrow stairs led her directly into a trap where she had been welcomed with a flaming barrel, forcing her to jump down the through a hole in the railing onto a lower ledge. As if that wasn’t enough, she landed in front of a huge black armored knight. 

Blade slowly raised from the ground, almost paralyzed under its gaze.

She had never seen such a tall inhuman knight, huffing and growling, wearing an intricate black armor with twisted horns in its helmet. There was nothing but darkness behind the holes in its helmet. It was big enough to carry a broadsword as if it were a mere one-handed sword and a heavy shield as a lithe chunk of wood, and she was right in front of it. 

The knight threw a direct cut towards her that might have pierced her chest like butter, but Blade rolled forward, slipping between its long legs. She tried to run away, but this was no simple Hollow and it only took a second longer for it to turn around and launch an onslaught with the shield, making her fall flat on her face as soon as the shield hit her back. Blade lost all air in her lungs with the blow, and felt the sword burning and sliding between her ribs, nailing her to the ground.

Death came to take her back, she could feel its cold arms pulling her into the darkness even though she fought against it with all her might. How many times could she die without losing her sanity yet? She had lost count and somehow feared she should have gone Hollow long ago; Blade knew it, she knew this might as well be her last chance to fight back and all she could do was lie on the ground covered in her own blood, hissing and breathing with a sword embedded onto her chest. 

She howled in pain when the knight abruptly withdrew the blade from her body, leaving her bleeding, dizzy and weak. Struggling, she stepped aside and gritted her teeth as blood soaked her entire armor once again. But she couldn't afford paying any more attention to agony -at that point it was the most common part of her life-, she took her sword and growled when she felt an unbearable pain tearing through her guts as she interposed her weapon between her and the knight. 

Having lost the shield with the blow, she would only have one chance for a counterattack.

Blade shoved the knight away, roaring in pain, and rolled back. She stepped out of reach from the knight's sword, about to lose her balance as she climbed onto a stone railing with her entire body shaking, and as quick as a cornered cat, she jumped onto the knight's shoulders, taking momentum, carrying out the madness that no one else would have thought of in such a situation. Perched on the shoulders of her annoyed opponent, Blade plunged the sword twice into his neck, between the groove of the helmet and the gorget. But it didn’t die, in fact, only got angrier and tried to grab her. The knight might have succeeded if it had released its weapons, but as it didn’t, Blade could avoid it encircling it harder by the pinched collar of the armor, taking advantage of her petite stature and plunging the sword deep into its neck. 

The knight let out an inhuman, chilling howl and threw her flying through the air, dying, falling apart to become a huge cloud of souls as it released its heavy weapons.

And she… was she going to die? 

Blade tasted blood running down her lips. No. She had survived with a crooked arm and a worrying hole in her torso that would be a problem if she didn’t do something to mend it soon. 

Struggling to take her Estus flask, she grasped it between nimble fingers and drank eagerly, feeling how the warm liquid recomposed her body little by little. She closed her eyes, thinking she had Oscar to thank for that, lying on the ground like a rag doll and increasingly oblivious to death’s grasp.

It was incredibly difficult to get up and walk even if Estus healed quickly enough, but the reward for her misfortune was a magnificent shield and a huge sword she had to put over her shoulder to be able to carry -yes, the same the knight used to stab her-. Grimacing, she abandoned her old weapons and started walking again with the new ones.

Once she found the Hollow soldier who had thrown her the barrel, she pushed it into the void and watched with pleasure as it screamed and fell. 

“I swear if any Hollow throws something else at me, I will dismember it slowly,” she hissed before continuing. 

The pain was still raw, and she only wanted to find the damn Parish as soon as possible before dying again and going Hollow. Dying at the very beginning of the pilgrimage wouldn’t be even worthy of the crestfallen soldier, it was sad and pitiful. 

As she climbed up the abandoned tower, Blade wondered if anyone might have a convenient map of the area. She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded, grimacing at the pain the movement brought to her sore ribs. If anything, she told herself, she would ask the next Hollow around, just in case it wanted to guide her instead of gut her with a jagged sword or throw her a flaming barrel.

*  *  *

 

Blade frowned and watched the wide parapet walk ahead, looking back at the humongous demon corpse she just killed, panting heavily. Slowly, the body disappeared in a cloud of blood and timid souls flowing towards her, but she was so tired that she could barely stand up or even appreciate the souls accumulating inside her. The beast had been a massive and strong one indeed, capable of using its advantage to easily overcome her and crush her to the ground with its hammer, but after several failures, Blade climbed up the nearest tower and used high ground to get even with it.

Letting her feet take her down the path, she sighed, feeling drained and tired after several deaths before killing the monstrosity, still wondering about the looming moment she would lose her sanity or die forever. She didn’t remember being so absurdly tired in her life, she couldn’t even go a step further, coughing blood and trembling…

Blade found herself returning to the bonfire instead of taking down the path to continue beyond the demon area, fiddling a little Humanity in her free hand, little more than a gleaming black and white blur dancing over her open palm. The little creature started sliding down and Blade ended up crushing it between her fingers while trying to catch it, noticing how it suddenly merged with her and pushed death further from her body. So, that was it. It had to be destroyed, like everything else, to make it her own. And it was so pleasant… 

She could just lie by the fire now, a safe place, almost a home, and rest…

 

*  *  *

 

It was extremely odd waking up to find light was always the same, she didn’t know how twilight seemed to cling to a never-ending day in the strange land of the gods.

Blade shook her head, wishing she still had the need to eat, drink and fulfill all human things the curse took away from her, but feeling somehow a little better after sleeping even if she was never going to be human again. Then, wondering why she found herself yearning for long forgotten things, she tossed her helmet aside and breathed in the fresh air as she walked towards the walkway where she defeated the demon. She was still tired, and sleeping wasn’t nearly the same as before, but she could now rise and move without stumbling even on her way through the burg. 

Ignoring her inner turmoil, she went up the wall and down stairs until she stumbled against a thick wooden door, opening it and wondering if she was near her destination. But on the other side there was no Parish at all; she found herself facing another wooden door. There was a huge stone bridge beyond, crowded with Hollows and corpses at their feet at one side and a balcony to the other. 

She dropped herself on the stone floor, against the wall of a balcony where the bridge ended up with a wide circular shape, tired, also dropping her weapons and wearily looking at the Hollows. 

_There_ _might_ _be six or seven_ _of them_ _, crossbowmen, warriors and spearmen_ _._ _Damn it_ _all_ _._ _Who’s sitting on her ass and whining now?_

She glanced over the stone railing. There was nothing but a wide open cloudy sky, the nice and timid sun and… 

Blade immediately frowned when she saw the balcony was indeed larger than expected, and it wasn’t empty at all. A peculiar knight stood there intensely looking at the open sky, as if it was the most complex and interesting canvas, facing the sun without even the slightest of concerns about the Hollows entrenched on the bridge. Another madman, perhaps? It was obviously not as threatening as the black knight or the demon, but she was going to be cautious anyway. Either way, the knight seemed perfectly absorbed in his scrutiny of the heavens and hadn’t even seen her yet, so she had the advantage to decide what to do. 

It was certainly strange. Why was he wasting his time there, just… watching at the sky? She couldn’t see anything particularly interesting up there, but damn was she curious about why the weird looking madman had so much passion put into observation. 

Even though she waited for a long time, the knight kept looking up the sun every second with the same prideful and determined pose. And she decided she  _had_  to know what was going on. Something inside of her kept whispering he didn’t look dangerous at all, just peculiar. 

_You're an idiot_ , she muttered to herself as she slowly went downstairs, leaving her hideout and her bulky weapons behind.  _Yeah, just a_ _complete idiot_ _…_

Blade kept a close eye on him as she approached. He might know something about the Parish, he might be going on his own pilgrimage, or he might just be a strange Hollow, but she had to know.

She didn’t recognize the armor, it wasn’t a regular one in the slightest. A large metal great helm with a red feather on top, a battered mail armor, a white surcoat with some sort of heraldic sun painted on the chest that had clearly seen better days, and the weirdest pauldrons made of the green mane of some unknown beast. And despite his strong constitution, he apparently only had a one-handed sword with no special insignia. A madman, no doubt.

The knight moved his head to face her when she approached but didn’t seem alarmed in any way by her sudden appearance. 

“Ah, hello! You don’t look Hollow, far from it. A nice change, if you ask me.” He cheerfully saluted. His voice sounded canned, warm, deep and metallic, but not heavy nor bitter in the least.

At first, Blade thought he was teasing her. How in hell didn’t she look like a Hollow? She couldn’t even remember when she had looked human. The knight, who even being clearly cursed showed strong and fleshy human looking hands was nothing like her, dry, ugly… 

She flinched, noticing for the first time her hands filling all the glove, almost full, almost… 

Blade took off one of the leather gloves and gazed gaping at her own hand, alive, covered with flesh and soft skin once again. Hesitant, she touched her own face, breathing heavily. Joy and incredulity shone in her intense grey eyes when she caressed her soft and warm skin, her black hair, her serious full lips, her proud cheekbones… 

So, the little Humanity did something for her, after all.

The knight curiously looked at her through the great helm’s eye-slit, like he didn’t quite understand the nature of her astonishment. Blade looked back at him, composing herself even though the roaring feelings were still battering her chest. 

“Who the hell are you?” she sharply asked, deflecting attention. 

He didn’t seem to find any inconvenience in introducing himself, even if it had been required in such a dry manner.

“I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight,” he proclaimed, brimming with radiant pride.

“Yeah… Well, you can call me Blade,” she said with a lump in her throat. Astora. Like Oscar, another knight dedicating his life to a hopeless and brutal pilgrimage that would end up being the death of them all. “So, what are you doing here?” she asked, pointing to the balcony and the wide cloudy sky.

The knight followed her gaze back up to the abundant sunbathed clouds, and Blade saw his warm blue satisfied eyes behind the eye-slit, wondering about the extended necessity of all knights to hide their face behind cold metal.

“It’s a magnificent place to admire the power of the sun.”

“I mean what are you doing here in Lordran,” she teased him, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh…” The knight chuckled. “Well, now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun!” Blade looked at him with eyes wide open. He was looking for…  what? The knight gave a hearty laugh with one hand upon his chest. Blade didn’t know how to hide her astonishment, so, she looked away, uncomfortable. “Come on, no need to hide your reaction, I get that look all the time!”

Blade shook her head, about to tell him how ridiculous, stupid and childish his purpose was, until a recent memory ran through her mind. The crestfallen man in Firelink Shrine and the open disdain for her decision to follow the pilgrimage immediately came into mind, sending a chilling shot of anger through her spine. No, she wasn’t going to diminish the missions of others, as crazy as they might be.

However, she was surprised and curious about it, there was no point denying that. 

“I thought everyone came here to know the fate of the Undead and break the curse,” she casually said, closely watching the knight. 

He didn’t seem to be bothered at all for her questions, or even for her badly hidden skepticism. 

“My fate is to find my own sun. I leave the noble purpose of finding a solution for the curse to others,” he said, making pretty obvious by his tone he was smiling behind the great helm. “What about you? Are you following the old prophecy?”

She hesitated, vaguely thinking about it, about her own buried desperation, the anger of not knowing what to do and how fiercely she clung to her new goal, refusing to be like the crestfallen man who didn’t dare to leave the bonfire, his eyes full of apathetic fear and his head down. She wasn’t anyone anymore, didn’t even remember who she had been, so following the same delirium that dragged other Undead to Lordran, and thus please the memory of Oscar, didn’t seem a bad way out if she met a worthy death. 

“I made a promise to a fallen knight. I don’t have many options either way, carrying this curse,” she answered, trying to shrug it off and hide the truth beneath all her lies. 

_I just want to die fighting,_ a voice rang in her head, but she just hushed it. The stranger didn’t need to know that, she might as well let him think she was somewhat noble and had a deeper purpose. 

Solaire nodded, shaking the red feather on the top of the helmet with the movement.

“You have all the options you want to pursue,” the knight said with an encouraging tone. Blade sighed lightly, dismissing his words. “And your path will take you over the bridge, if you came to ask me.”

The warrior collected herself, looked away and grunted in response, drifting her attention from the knight to her inner thoughts. She started considering her options, giving up to the evidence that she needed to rest before marching on, sighing heavily. It was clear she still accused the recent fighting and wasn’t in the best of shapes after having spent so much idle time in the gloomy Asylum, and that pissed her to no end. 

Blade stood for a while looking at the knight and the open sky in silent contemplation, trying to calm her inner turmoil before heading off. The knight Solaire seemed capable of delighting in the mere observation of those thick clouds, colored from pure white to gray leaden, gilded where the sun touched them. And why wasting his time looking for his own sun having the one up the sky to enjoy himself? The sun was still bright and luminous, and yet he seemed invested in the idea of finding another one. 

Sighing, Blade approached the knight and sat on the railing, ignoring the emptiness beneath it. If there was solid ground down there, it wasn’t visible among the thick clouds covering everything in the distance. She knew she should be leaving by now, but was still curious, even if she didn’t want to admit it and rather kept pretending she only wanted to keep going on her way. 

Blade flinched at the knight’s knowing laugh when he saw her arriving again to contemplate the landscape.

“Oh, ah hah! So, I didn’t scare you then?” he asked, satisfied.

Blade proudly raised her chin, swinging her feet in the air.

“Scare me? Ha! That’s a good one. It takes more than a strange man to scare me,” she snapped, snorting.

The knight laughed out loud with his deep voice.

“That is not a matter of doubt,” he said with a hearty laugh. Then he slowly evaluated her with kind blue eyes, pondering whether to tell her what he was thinking or not. “I have a proposition, if you have a moment.”

Suddenly on guard, Blade frowned slightly in disapproval.

“What kind of proposition?” the warrior grunted, hostile and ready to leave or fight if the man said something unwanted. 

“Oh, dear me! It's nothing worthy of rebuke, I assure you,” Solaire said, suddenly serious and slightly embarrassed, eager to explain himself. “The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with Hollows, could that really be mere chance? So, what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?”

Blade certainly didn’t expect that. 

Help? The pilgrimage was a lonely journey, she wasn’t supposed to have any help or company, she didn’t even want to… 

The knight took something from a bag under his belt, a white stone shaped like an arrowhead. He offered it to her, but she frowned, recoiling. Did he really think she needed help from someone like him? A so-called knight with ridiculous armor and a painted sun on his chest?

“No,” Blade sharply answered, laughing at him. “I don’t need your help.”

The knight didn’t say anything else. They remained silent for a few seconds, but he didn’t seem offended by her plain refusal, even though it was evident he had expected her to accept; he just cleared his throat and withdrew his hand, storing the stone in his pocket. 

“Well, yes, quite understandable. Not to worry. I do not wish to impose,” he replied in the same affable tone. “I was in the wrong. We'll laugh it off, shall we?”

The knight laughed deeply, and Blade retreated, uncomfortable. She was sincerely baffled by the man, but at least it was obvious he wasn’t any threat. He was just… weird. However, it was better not to push her luck any further and leave him be, just in case. 

Blade didn’t say any goodbyes, she just turned her back to the stranger, who returned to his contemplation of the sun, and gathered her weapons to cross the bridge.

There were hostile Hollows ahead, of course, but she would take care of them. 

It couldn’t be so bad. It was just a bridge full of charred corpses and Hollow soldiers. She would quickly cross it and reach the Parish, unlike the crazy Sunlight knight, who surely wasn’t strong enough to keep facing the dangers of this cursed kingdom and pretended he was willingly stuck on that balcony, gazing at the sun instead of just crossing the bridge. She would continue, kill everything standing in her way, and keep her mind clear in the process.


End file.
